Chapter Thirteen
Stacey spent all morning waiting for her father to deliver the Tittletattle to her. She could barely eat breakfast, even though the meal had, once again, consisted of her favorite foods.
After she ate, she waited in the drawing room. She couldn’t read a book. She couldn’t bring herself to write to Piers and warn him about what was about to happen to his good name. All she could do was stare out the window and wait, with dread, for her father, or someone, to bring the Tittletattle to her.
Maybe if she was in the drawing room when her father came to her about ending the engagement, he wouldn’t strike her when she told him she couldn’t do it. He hadn’t struck her yet. There was one time he had struck her mother. It was right after the stillbirth of Stacey’s little brother. Her father had blamed her mother for losing the baby. He had waited until the doctor and servants left the room before hitting her. The only reason Stacey had seen it was because she’d been hiding in the other room.
If Stacey made sure she was in the drawing room and if she was by a window, she just might make it through his initial burst of anger without being hurt. Once that initial burst was over, he would calm down enough where he wouldn’t be tempted to physically express his rage again.
She clasped her hands in her lap and tried to will the tears away, but they came anyway. As soon as people read the Tittletattle, they were going to believe the worst about Piers. His reputation would be ruined. Who knew if Ethan and Christopher would want to be his friend then? And when she told her father she couldn’t end the engagement, who knew what he’d do to her? Or he might do something else to Piers. If he was going to resort to saying such a disgusting lie about Piers, what else was he capable of doing?
A knock came at the front door, and she hurried to wipe her tears away. She peered out the window as the footman answered the door. After a few seconds, she saw a lad rush down the townhouse steps.
She took a deep breath and slowly released it. She didn’t recognize the lad. Was it someone her father had paid to deliver the Tittletattle to this residence?
She turned as the footman came into the drawing room. “This came for you, Lady Stacey,” he said as he handed her an envelope that was addressed to her.
Eyebrows furrowed, she took it. She’d been expecting the scandal sheets, not this. But this might be related to the paper. She recognized Piers’ handwriting. Maybe he was writing to end the engagement for her. No doubt, he knew her father had been behind the scandal. Not only would he have been horrified to find out what her father had done, but he might even resent her for it. After all, if it hadn’t been for her, his reputation would still be intact today.
“Thank you,” she told the footman, forcing herself to smile.
“You’re welcome,” he replied. “May I bring you something to eat or drink? You’ve been in here all morning without anything.”
She shook her head. “I don’t need anything.”
At least, she didn’t need anything he could give her. What she most needed was to erase the damage her father was doing, but that was out of her control. She hated feeling helpless. She’d spent her entire life feeling helpless. The only recourse she had was leaving London with her mother. And that hadn’t come soon enough because she’d unwittingly ruined Piers’ reputation.
The footman left, and she was, once again, alone.
Her gaze went back to the envelope. Tears filled her eyes. She didn’t want to read what Piers had written her. She was sure he had been kind when he wrote the missive, telling her he couldn’t continue his association with her. He wouldn’t respond the way her father would if the roles had been reversed. But after what her father had done, he’d be forced to quietly end the betrothal.
Wiping the tears away, she sat by the window and opened the envelope. She pulled out the neatly folded parchment. By now, she had become familiar with Piers’ handwriting. He had neat penmanship. It wasn’t sloppy like some people’s. Each word was easy to read, as if he took great care with every letter as he was writing. It was funny that something so simple should mean anything to her, but she realized she was going to miss receiving correspondence from him.
Taking a deep breath to steady her shaking hands, she blinked back more tears and read the missive. She frowned. Surely, she couldn’t be reading the words right. She blinked again and brushed the tears from her eyes, so she could read the missive a second time.
The words were still the same. She read it through a third time, just to make sure she understood it correctly. He had written that he was looking forward to seeing her and that he would be by at two that afternoon. The tone of the missive wasn’t at all like she had expected. He sounded happy when he’d written this.
But how was that possible? Surely, the scandal had to have devastated him.
Unless he hadn’t read the Tittletattle when he had written this. He could very well have sent this out before he heard about the scandal. The Tittletattle hadn’t arrived at her home yet. So that could very well be the case.
She glanced at the clock. It was a little after one. When did the Tittletattle start making its rounds through London? Was it in the morning or afternoon?
Another knock came from the front door. She slipped the missive back into the envelope and peered out the window. The footman answered the door, and after a few seconds, the door closed and a young gentleman bounded down the steps. This time, she recognized the visitor. He often came to deliver correspondence to her father.
She turned her attention to the open doorway of the drawing room. The footman walked by, a rolled up paper tucked under his arm. He didn’t stop at the drawing room. He headed in the direction of her father’s den.
She gripped the missive in her hand. That had to be the Tittletattle. Now the scandal would erupt through London. Now Piers would probably rethink coming by to visit her.
She tucked the missive into her pocket. It was the last pleasant correspondence she was ever going to receive from him. She didn’t know why it was important that she keep it, but she would. She hadn’t kept his other missives. Now, she wished she had. This was all she’d have to remember him by.
At this point, she could only hope he’d give her the tickets he had purchased so she and her mother could go to America. She thought he would. He seemed to be a gentleman who kept his word, regardless of what unpleasant thing happened. But how could she know for sure until he handed them to her?
She let out a heavy sigh and put her face in her hands. Piers would give her the tickets. He’d know her father started the scandal. He wouldn’t blame her for it. Even if he ended up breaking off the betrothal ahead of time because of the scandal, he would still give her those tickets. Wouldn’t he? She had kept her part of the agreement. She’d done everything she could to help him.
Heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway. Gasping, she bolted up and hurried to the window. Her father wouldn’t do anything to her when someone from outside could see her. He worried too much about his reputation to do something so reckless.
Her father stomped into the drawing room and lifted the Tittletattle up. Since she was too far to read the words on the paper, she didn’t know what had upset him. And she wasn’t about to go over to him to find out.
“I don’t know who Lord Whitney knows, but I’ll figure it out,” her father seethed. “And when I do, that person will wish they had put the story in the Tittletattle.”
He threw the paper on the floor then stormed out of the room. A few seconds later, she heard the front door slam. She turned to the window and saw him marching down the steps. Once he reached the sidewalk, he headed in the direction of the businesses.
She turned from the window and hurried to the Tittletattle. She picked it up and skimmed through it. Nothing about Piers was on the front page. She turned to the next page and skimmed it, too. She did the same with the other two pages. There was nothing that would hurt Piers’ reputation in the entire thing.
This time when she cried, it was with relief. She didn’t know how this was possible. It was a miracle. That was the only logical explanation for it. A real, genuine miracle.
Before she had time to fully enjoy the good fortune that had fallen Piers’ way, a sobering reminder came to her. Her father would retaliate. She didn’t know what his next recourse would be, but he would do something.
She put the Tittletattle on the desk and considered her options. She had to warn Piers. She’d been granted a reprieve. Nothing more. She needed to be wise with the time she had.
Since her father wasn’t in the townhouse, she hurried up the stairs to her bedchamber and washed her face. She needed to leave the house. She didn’t dare stay here in case her father returned. When she spoke with Piers, she’d need to do so away from here.
She changed into a gown better suited for being outside. Then she took the missive Piers had written to her and hid it under her mattress. That way, if her father inspected her bedchamber, he wouldn’t find it.
Afterwards, she went to the armoire and grabbed her hat and gloves. Once those were on, she slipped out of her bedchamber, careful to make sure her father hadn’t returned. She didn’t think he had. Not so soon. But she had to be sure.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she waited. And listened. All was still and quiet. Then she heard soft footsteps. She turned her head and saw it was the butler. She released her breath, unaware she’d been holding it.
“Do you need something, Lady Stacey?” the butler asked.
“No,” she replied. “I thought I’d go for a walk.”
Since she took walks often enough, it shouldn’t arouse her father’s suspicions.
The butler nodded, and though it wasn’t his job, he opened the front door for her. “Have a good walk, Lady Stacey.”
She offered him a smile then left the townhouse.
There was only five minutes to go before Piers was supposed to arrive. If she knew which direction he’d be coming from, she would head down the sidewalk right now to meet him. But as it was, she didn’t know, and because of that, she had to stand by the steps and wait.
Fortunately, he was two minutes early. But he had taken his carriage. She bit her lower lip. She couldn’t just get in there with him. There was no chaperone. She had hoped he would walk here. That would make things easier.
His carriage pulled up to the front of the townhouse, and he opened the door before his footman could do it. “Did you get my missive?” he asked her. “I didn’t interrupt you from going somewhere, did I?”
With an uneasy glance around to make sure no one was paying any attention to her, she stepped up to the carriage. “I got your missive. I thought I’d wait outside for you.”
His gaze went to the townhouse, and she wondered if he was looking to see if her father was watching them.
“My father isn’t there,” she assured him. “He went out.” Lowering her voice, she added, “I need to tell you something important. We need to go somewhere private.”
Not hiding his concern, he asked, “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“No, but you are.” She glanced around her again.
A couple of people noticed her talking to Piers, but she didn’t recognize them. Hopefully, they wouldn’t tell her father. She didn’t think any of them knew her father, but it was hard to know how much influence he actually had. Apparently, he hadn’t had enough to get the scandal about Piers into the Tittletattle.
“If you’d like our conversation to be private, the best place I can think of to meet is somewhere outside of London,” he whispered. “My servants can be discreet. They won’t mention it to anyone”
“Mine would tell my father what I’m doing.” She paused as she considered her options. She needed someone to help her. Someone she could trust to keep a secret. After a moment, she decided to ask Iris. “I think I can find someone to help me. Where will you be?”
“I can meet you two miles north of the cemetery. There’s a group of trees to the west. I’ll be behind those trees.”
It sounded like a good plan. She nodded. “I’ll take a carriage out there.”
“All right.”
She stepped away from his carriage.
He gestured to his footman, whispered something to him, gave her one last concerned look, and then closed the door.
She waited until his carriage was moving before she turned and went to Iris’ residence.
She rarely ever went to see Iris in person. Most of the time, she wrote her missives and paid a lad to deliver the correspondence. She’d been so terrified Lady Eloise would find out, which, in turn, would mean her father would find out. If that had happened, her father would’ve been furious with her because friendship with Iris meant immediate dismissal from Ladies of Grace.
At the time, membership in the group seemed to be the most important thing in the world. It meant her father was happy, and it meant that she stood a better chance of securing a marriage to someone she could like. But in light of what her father was trying to do to Piers, none of it seemed to matter anymore.
She reached Iris’ townhouse then knocked on the door, praying Iris was home. Thankfully, fortune was on her side. Iris was home.
The footman led her into the drawing room. Iris and Lady Gareth were laughing and fussing over the twin babies Iris had given birth to in March. Iris was holding Danielle, and Lady Gareth was holding Stuart. Not too far from them, Lady Gareth’s two children were playing with some toys. Stacey had never seen Lady Gareth’s children, but she remembered that Leah was six and Peter was four.
“Stacey,” Iris called out in surprise as she stood up from the settee. Still holding her daughter, she went over to her and lowered her voice so Lady Gareth wouldn’t overhear them. “Is something wrong?”
Stacey nodded. “My father wants to spread a horrible lie about Lord Whitney. He wants everyone to think Lord Whitney was caught in a tryst with two ladies.”
Iris gasped. “Lord Whitney would never do such a thing. His only fault is that he bores people.”
Stacey didn’t understand why people grew bored around him. She’d never gotten bored any of the times she’d been with him. But that wasn’t important. What was important was that she got to warn Piers.
“I need to tell him what my father’s planning to do,” Stacey said. “I’m afraid if I see him in a place where others will see us, then my father will find out.”
Stacey had never gone into detail about what her father was like to Iris, and she didn’t want to do so now. She could only hope Iris would believe this was an urgent matter.
“You want to speak with Lord Whitney here?” Iris asked.
Stacey shook her head. “People saw me coming here. One of them might tell my father about it. If they see Lord Whitney coming here, too, that won’t be good.”
Iris thought about it then nodded. “You make a good point. So, what do you want me to do?”
“I hate to impose, but I was wondering if you’d let me borrow your carriage so I can go outside of London to talk to him.”
“You want to go outside of London to talk with a gentleman you’re not married to? Is that a wise idea?”
“It’s the only place I can guarantee privacy.”
“You should have a chaperone. Do you want me to go along?”
“I can’t involve you in this any more than I already have. This is something I have to do alone.”
“But if someone finds out that you saw Lord Whitney alone, it will damage both of your reputations. Then what you’re trying to do in protecting Lord Whitney will be for nothing.”
“I’d rather have people believing I was meeting Lord Whitney for a dalliance than for them to believe he was caught with two ladies. At least if they think I was with him, I can say I was with him other times, too. Then my father wouldn’t be able to get away with his lie.” When Iris hesitated, she added, “I won’t get caught. I’ll be careful. I just need for people to think you’re the one in the carriage.”
After a long moment, Iris sighed. “All right. I think I can make it so that we get you out of here without anyone seeing you. I’ll pay my staff extra to keep quiet about this matter.”
“Thank you.”
Iris turned back to Lady Gareth. “I have something I need to show Lady Stacey. Would you mind watching Danielle?”
“I wouldn’t mind at all,” Lady Gareth replied. She looked over at Stacey and smiled. “It’s nice to see you.”
Stacey returned her smile. “It’s nice to see you, too.”
Iris sat Danielle on the floor and then went back over to Stacey. “I won’t be long,” she told Lady Gareth before she led Stacey out of the room.